


At the Forest's Edge

by MargaretKire



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathing, Creature customs are weird to humans, Fantasy Realm, Height Differences, Huddling For Warmth, Human customs are weird to creatures, M/M, Monster sex, Non-Human Genitalia, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Teratophilia, Weird Sex, eventually, mosters, this is a bit of a slow burn for a creature au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargaretKire/pseuds/MargaretKire
Summary: Cye may be too short, too old (he's only 37), and too soft hearted to be a monster hunter. He may also have accidentally wound up with a creature that refuses to leave his side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! After writing my own stories for centuries *gazes into the distance*, I am at last posting one. In my opinion, the world needs more slow-burn gay monster love. Set in *wavy hand* not-Middle-Earth-but-sorta-Middle-Earth.

Cye spent the last of his reward money getting a new handle fitted to his hunting knife. It physically _hurt_ to hand the coins over. Even with the blacksmith giving him a deal, the money was difficult to part with. He told the soot-covered man where he’d seen a warren of rabbits a few miles outside of town, and the smithy had smiled and knocked a few coins off the cost of the repair. Food was scarce this time of year, and the blacksmith had a family to feed.

 

Cye would have relied on his sword alone if he could have, and saved his last coppers, but it was very difficult work cutting up dinner with a broadsword. The last troll he’d met in the Greystone Mountains had shattered the bone handle of his only short knife, but not before Cye had managed to get the blade jammed between the creature’s ribs, which had saved his life.

 

Unfortunately, the troll, unlike every other troll he’d ever hunted, didn’t have any treasure on him. This was especially irritating, because he’d been informed that this particular troll had amassed a huge treasure hoard. The beast could have stashed it all in his cave, but trolls rarely left their dwellings without secreting their most valuable possessions on their person.

 

Cye had gone through the brute’s pockets, even checked under its clothes and in its boots (trolls often had jewelry in the oddest places), but no luck. All he found was a small leather pouch that hung around the creature’s thick neck, and when Cye had opened it, hoping for some sort of gold coins, there had only been a bundle of fabric remnants. The shreds looked as though they had been torn from expensive garments, but that’s not why he decided to slip the pouch into his satchel. He wasn’t exactly sure why he did it, but the fabric smelled good. Amazingly good. Maybe the troll had some valuable oils or resins back in its hoard.

 

The other item Cye kept from the beast was a key, smaller than the ones Cye was used to finding on trolls. Normally, they had huge, wrought iron keys that fit large padlocks on treasure boxes. The key Cye found, tucked inside the monster’s inner shirt pocket, was much smaller. Cye wondered how the troll, with it’s thick fingers, had ever been able to use the thing. But it was promising. Where there were keys, there were treasure chests.

 

He’d then spent the rest of the day searching for the troll’s cave, before it got too dark to see, and he’d given up and trudged back to town. Stupid trolls. Stupid trolls and their stupid hidden caves. Why’d he have to be a troll hunter, huh? Why couldn’t he have been a dragon hunter, like that huge brute from his old village who could wield a battle axe as large as Cye’s entire body? Now that’s where the money was. Dragons. And fire drakes. Those big lizards loved their gold.

 

But no, he had to grow up to be no taller than the average woman from his town. Sure, he was strong. Strong and tough. He was all sinew and gristle, which he pointed out to any of the trolls that seemed interested in eating him. But he was too small to hunt dragons, the gods be damned.

 

Trolls weren’t easy to kill, even if they weren’t as terrifying as dragons, and they still required a professional to track them down and dispose of them. Cye was good at what he did, and by all rights, he ought to have been rich by now. He was old for a monster hunter, even though he had just turned thirty-seven. Most hunters started in their teens and retired - if not becoming monster fodder first- by the time they were thirty.

 

Cye inspected the repaired knife, lamenting anew the loss of his money. He was hungry and tired. No coppers meant no lodgings.

 

“Good sir, if I might trouble you for yet another favor,” he said in his best ‘I’m a super-upright and honest fellow, you can trust me with your coin purse and your newborn babe’ voice, catching the blacksmith’s attention before the man had finished locking up his shop for the night. The large man turned and looked down at him. “If it is not too much trouble, might I sleep in one of your buildings for the night? I could repay you in an hour of labor tomorrow morning. I mean to leave shortly after dawn.”

 

“After your troll cave, I reckon?” the man asked, giving him a crooked smile.

 

“Yes,” Cye answered simply, trying not to feel intimidated by the man’s bulk looming over him.

 

“Tell you what,” the man answered, “I’ll put you up in the woodshed for the evening, and you bring me any weapons you find in the troll’s cave.” Cye took a step back in shock. “Not to keep,” the blacksmith added, booming out a laugh. “To mend. To sharpen. They will fetch a higher price at market, and you can pay me properly, eh?”

 

Cye huffed out a breath in relief. “It’s a bargain, sir,” he said, holding out his hand as it was enveloped in a meaty paw.

 

“You're a fancy talker,” the blacksmith commented, as he unlocked a smaller building behind his shop. “From the city, then?”

 

“No, just a village, same as any other.” Cye walked through the door into a windowless shed, stacked high with firewood. The blacksmith just snorted, obviously not believing him.

 

“I’ll bring you back some bread after we’ve had our dinner, and I’ll see if I can find a scrap of blanket, but no promises.”

 

“Thank you for your generosity,” Cye responded, giving the man an elegant bow.

 

“Just a villager, huh?” the blacksmith muttered, leaving the door open when he left.

 

Cye did end up with a large chunk of bread for his dinner, but he did not receive a blanket. He improvised a bed out of springy bundles of kindling. It was a prickly, unstable mattress, but it was a lot warmer than the packed dirt floor. Pulling his cloak tight around him in the pitch-black room, Cye let himself daydream about what he would do with the troll’s hoard, until he fell into a fitful sleep.

 

The next day dawned cold and gray. Cye was miles from town before the sun had risen above the treetops. He had saved a chunk of bread for his breakfast, but he was already hungry by the time he finally hit upon what he was looking for: large footprints in a dry patch of mud. A troll trail.

 

After that lucky discovery, it was only a matter of another hour before he was pulling a mass of brush away from a hidden cave entrance. A few feet into the dim interior and the smell hit him full force. Trolls liked their meat a bit rancid to begin with, and the extra day it had taken Cye to track down the cave had not improved the situation any.

 

Trying not to gag on the foul air, Cye blinked his watering eyes and set to work lighting his torch and readying his bags. He planned to make a swift but thorough search of the horde, grab all the valuables, and get out of there before he retched.

 

The torch finally caught after a few fumbling attempts with his matches, and he cursed himself under his breath for not doing this ahead of time out in the fresh air. Looking around the large room, he shied away from the corner that had served as the troll’s larder, backing away before he could identify any of the formless hunks of rotting meat.

 

He surveyed the rest of the cave once, then twice, feeling that he must be overlooking the main stash. There were plenty of crates and boxes, but they were all open and empty. How could a troll have so little? Had someone else found this place before he had? But then why cover up the entrance?

 

He had barely filled half a sack, and most of that was likely rubbish. True, he’d have the reward money when he took the troll’s ears and teeth back to the city for the bounty, but the real money in troll hunting came from the creature’s horde. Seems as though this troll had let him down yet again. Cursing, Cye searched the nooks and crannies of the walls, hoping to find some hidden jewelry or coins, anything really. At this point, he wasn’t picky.

 

There was a movement in the corner of the cave. It was faint, the sound of metal shifting. But Cye spun around and held his torch out against the gloom, his heart racing.

 

Did the troll have a mate? Trolls never had mates. They met up in the woods to breed, but lived apart. Offspring then? It was a male troll that he had killed, and the males rarely raised their young themselves.

 

Cye’s mind spun trying to work out what was making the shifting noise in the corner, the one corner he hadn’t properly checked because- No. Oh gods, _please no._ Don’t let it be a troll meal that was still alive.

 

As many monsters as he’d killed, he hated seeing innocent things suffer. That was part of the reason he was still doing this thankless job. The children he’d seen after troll attacks… His mind flashed to their little, lifeless faces and his stomach turned, threatening to finally heave up the remnants of bread. If the troll had stolen a child… well, he needed to look. If it was a wounded animal he could kill it quickly, and if was a child, he could take it to the village.

 

He approached slowly, not wanting to spook whatever it was, but he clutched his repaired hunting knife out in front of him, just in case there was danger lurking in the shadows. Another soft clank, and Cye lifted his torch in the direction of the noise.

 

He caught sight of a long foot, before it pulled back from the circle of light. Not a child then. But not an animal either. Cye swallowed, inching forward. The firelight caught the gleam of eyes and then the sound of a chain rattling fast before snapping short, followed by a quiet whimper of pain.

 

Cye finally stepped close enough to get a look at the troll’s captive. He blinked in astonishment, his mouth falling open slightly.

 

The creature was straining its weight back, trying to get as far away from Cye as it could. As _he_ could, Cye realized, getting a closer look at the being’s face and upper body. He was clothed from the waist down in what must have once been part of a robe, but had been tied tight around his hips to form a sort of skirt. The fabric gave off a sheen in the torchlight, and Cye briefly wondered if it was made of silk.

 

The creature held out his hands, the fingers long, the nails tapering to rounded points at the tips. He looked like he was torn between fending Cye off and begging for help.

 

“Please,” the creature said in Shared Speech, “don’t kill me.” Cye stopped in his tracks and looked the being over again. He sounded like an elf. He looked a bit like an elf too, with his tall, slim build and fine-boned face. But… he also looked nothing like an elf. The torch gave off a feeble, orange light, but even in the gloom, Cye could see that his face was the wrong shape. Then there were the fingernails that were basically blunt claws, and the extreme tilt of the creature’s eyes… more like an orc than an elf.

 

Cye finally stopped gaping at him, and shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you,” he promised. He dropped his sack to the floor and dug around awkwardly in the leather pouch slung around his body. He had a lock picking set, but he also had that key he’d lifted from the troll’s body the day before. Sighing as he finally found the thing, he got close enough to the creature to fumble the key into his hand, then stood back with his knife at the ready, holding the torch aloft so that the creature could find the keyhole. A few moments later, the metal collar dropped away from the being’s neck and Cye saw what looked like tar or soot smeared on the creature’s throat.

 

He half expected the creature to bolt or maybe try and attack him. Instead, the being let out a long, tired sigh and fainted. Cye watched him crumpling to the ground and only managed to get his boot between the creature’s head and the stone floor at the last second. Not the most graceful of rescues, but at least he saved the creature from braining himself on the cave floor.

 

Cye couldn’t carry the torch and the being out of the cave at the same time, and the long, lanky creature didn’t seem likely to be waking up anytime soon. Cye prodded him carefully with his foot, but got no reaction. He really hoped the creature wasn’t faking, waiting for an opportunity to rip him open. Cye wedged the torch into a crevice in the stone wall, and then dragged the creature outside, gripping him under the arms.

 

It was shocking to emerge from the dark pit into the full light of day, the sun blinding in its brilliance. Cye took huge lungfuls of cold air, marveling that anything could smell so clean and fresh. He wrestled the body of the creature over to a stand of saplings and tucked him there under the cover of the leaves, before heaving in a deep breath and rushing back into the reeking troll cave for the half-empty bag of plunder and the torch.

 

Tripping back out into the sunlight again, Cye made his way over to the creature, who was still out cold, and dug his canteen out of his equipment sack. He took several long, cool pulls of water, grateful at the way the foul taste of the cave was washed away. He rummaged in the leather pouch again and came up with a tiny bag full of resin pellets - a gift from his last client - and popped a chewy drop into his mouth. The taste of cypress and cloves exploded on his tongue, ridding his mouth of any remaining vileness from the cave. He would need to bathe and wash his clothes and hair, but it was the best he could do for now.

 

His immediate discomfort dealt with, Cye turned his attention to the creature at his side. In the clear light, Cye noticed two things about him. First, he had been mistreated, badly, and likely for a long time. Second, he was unlike anything Cye had ever seen.

 

His skin was clear - nearly crystalline - everywhere that Cye could see, except for around his hairline, where speckles of dark gray were scattered like freckles or stars. The coloring came to a point, like a widow’s peak, in the center of his forehead, where Cye could just make out the slight tracings of a mark, like a faded tattoo, with delicate lines that swirled in an intricate pattern. He had ridges along his brow bone, similar almost to a dragon’s, but they were much more shallow and lacked the spikes that marked a dragon’s face.

 

Though the creature’s eyes were closed, Cye could make out the drastic slant of them, like an orc, but he had long, pale lashes and smooth, nearly invisible eyebrows, which were nothing like an orc. He also lacked the underbite and tusk-like teeth that orcs had.

 

Cye sat marveling at him for a long time, thinking that one minute he looked like an elf, the next a dryad, the next a human, and on and on, never settling on any one species. He considered binding the creature in case he awoke and tried to attack him, but the marks, some fresh, some old, that ringed the being’s neck and wrists stayed his hand. What he had taken for dirt or soot in the cave was actually dried blood. The creature had obviously tried to escape his bonds, struggling until he bled. Cye couldn’t bring himself to bind him again. 

 

After a long debate with himself, Cye decided to leave the creature loose and keep a sharp eye on him until he awoke. He had more the look of prey than predator. Despite the blunt talons and his height - Cye guessed he’d be about a head taller than himself when standing fully upright - he had the air of a peaceful being. Cye hadn’t lived this long as a monster hunter without good instincts. He made up his mind to go with his gut and hoped it didn’t get him killed.

 

The sun was high, and if they didn’t move out soon, they ran the risk of being caught out in the wilderness with nothing but the reeking troll cave for shelter, a prospect Cye really didn’t like the thought of. They needed to get moving, the sooner the better.

 

Cye jogged back to a small stream he had crossed while following the troll trail, adamantly hoping that the creature wouldn’t wake up while he was gone. Once at the water’s edge, he filled his canteen and soaked his one spare shirt in the frigid water, wringing it out and carrying it back to the clearing in front of the troll cave.

 

The creature was still unconscious, but he approached cautiously nonetheless, before stooping next to the long, ethereal body with the wet shirt clutched in one hand. He examined him again before beginning to dab carefully at the wounds on his throat, wiping away blood and dirt. This close to him, Cye realized that what he had thought was a piece of metal jewelry, that fit like a slim headdress around the creature’s hairline, was actually a bizarre type of shackle. It wasn’t delicately fashioned from silver or bone, like the baubles strung throughout the creature’s long, colorless hair, but rather a crude piece of wrought iron. Where it clamped down on the creature’s clear skin, red marks marred the smooth flesh in angry welts.

 

The headpiece fitted close around the entire perimeter of the creature’s hairline, covering over some of the dark gray freckles. It was thin over the forehead, widening out and splitting around his slightly pointed ears. The metal came to peaked ends in front of his ears, but the cruel design wrapped tightly around the backs of his ears, pushing them forward slightly. The band was thickest here, practically molded into the crevices behind his ears, before connecting somewhere at the base of his skull. Cye couldn’t see the joint properly without moving the creature and pushing his hair aside, so he chose to wait until he was awake.

 

He returned to the nearby stream, rinsing the blood and filth from his extra shirt - now rag - as much as possible. Returning once more, he placed the freshly-rinsed shirt against the creature’s face, grime coming away to reveal glowing-clear skin. Cye could see the blue veins at the creature’s temples, but otherwise, though his skin seemed nearly transparent, he couldn’t see through it. The way it looked reminded him of expensive milk-glass he’d seen inside fancy hotels of the big city.

 

Sighing, he shook the creature’s shoulder softly. He got no reaction other than the racing of the creature's eyes behind his pale eyelids, lashes fluttering but not lifting.

 

They couldn’t stay here. Cye hadn’t found much in the troll cave, but he had found a few crude weapons and a couple of coppers. It would be enough to bring to the blacksmith in return for another stay in the woodshed if he couldn’t manage to find an inn. Cye’s glance fell on the ornaments in the creature’s knotted hair. Those might get them farther, depending on the quality of the metal and the workmanship. Their designs were hard to make out through the tattered strands of dirty hair.

 

“Hey,” Cye said, shaking him harder. The creature froze mid-breath, lying still and stiff as death for the space of a heartbeat, before rolling onto his side in a flash and pushing himself backwards until he hit the trunks of the saplings blocking his escape. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Cye said, keeping his empty hands up in a show of surrender. With every second that passed, he believed more firmly that this creature was more hunted than hunter.

 

The creature’s eyes were nearly as colorless as his skin, glints of silver catching the light. He stared Cye down for several tense moments, before relaxing slowly when Cye showed no intention of moving closer. The creature’s fingers drifted up to the metal binding around his head, feeling it for a moment, an indescribable emotion flickering over his face as he felt the outline of the iron. He winced as his fingers brushed over the swollen flesh behind his ears.

 

“I could try and get that thing off for you,” Cye offered, wondering if the black key also unlocked the headdress. Maybe there was a mechanism at the back, under the creature’s hair. He met the being’s odd eyes again. They looked like an angry gray ocean as he glared at Cye. He seemed to be waiting for something, for Cye to do or say something further, but when it didn’t happen, he deflated, slumping forward.

 

“Maybe,” he said, his voice hoarse in his dry throat. Cye slowly slipped the full canteen of water from his satchel. At the slosh of liquid, he had the creature’s full attention. He reached the canteen out to arm’s length while he remained seated cross-legged on the grass. After a long moment, the creature reached out and accepted the canteen. He removed the cap and sniffed, then took a small sip. Satisfied that it was indeed fresh water and not poisoned sludge, the creature drank it down greedily, his whole body radiating desperate thirst.

 

He stopped only when the canteen was completely drained, looking abashed. He held out the empty canteen to Cye, his form slumping farther into the grass, his shoulders bowed, as though in shame.

 

“I am sorry,” he said, his voice still rough. “I didn’t mean to drink it all.”

 

“That’s alright,” Cye said softly. “There’s a stream not far from here.”

 

The creature’s face brightened. “May we, I mean, would it be alright to bathe?” The look on his face was hopeful. Cye he nodded and clambered to his feet, pulling his pack up over his shoulder.

 

“We need to get moving soon if we’re to find shelter and dinner for the evening. But after the stench of that troll cave, we’ll have better luck sleeping in an inn and not a barn if we wash first.”

 

The pale creature nodded his approval vigorously, obviously delighted with the thought of bathing. He stood to follow Cye, only to stumble on his long legs, his otherworldly eyes fluttering like he might pass out. Cye moved closer and let him lean on him until his head cleared.

 

“We’ll go slow,” Cye promised. The being agreed, and began to walk slowly beside him, following his lead, his long arm around Cye’s shoulders for support.

 

Once they were away from the tangle of young saplings, and walking under the broad forest trees, the creature turned his face toward Cye, snuffling briefly at his hair. The gesture surprised the hunter, but it had seemed natural to the creature, as though sniffing was just another way to collect information about the person who’d rescued him.

 

“The troll is dead?” the creature asked.

 

“Very,” Cye confirmed. His tall companion leaned on him even more, comfortable with Cye tucked under his arm, taking some of his weight.

 

“You smell a bit like troll blood,” the creature confirmed.

 

They took a few more steps in silence. “I am called Cye,” the human finally said, as the land began descending toward the stream.

 

“I am Lothagial,” the creature responded, the word rolling off his tongue like music. It was clearly not a Shared Speech name.

 

“Lo- Loth… Loth-uh-gile?” Cye tried. The creature snorted, his breath warm in Cye’s hair.

 

“Lothagial,” he said again. “Loth-a-gi-al,” he said slower. He gave the hint of a smile, gazing down at Cye with what looked, infuriatingly, like patience in the face of unbelievable stupidity.  Shaking his head and taking pity on him, he said, “Loth is fine. It is an acceptable shortening of my full name.”

 

“Loth,” Cye said. That was much easier. Loth huffed again, stirring a few loose strands of Cye’s dark hair where it had escaped it’s leather tie. Loth’s long arm tightened around his shoulders and Cye tried to keep their pace steady, even though the tall creature was throwing his balance off.

 

When they reached the steam, Cye knelt down to refill the canteen, while Loth wasted no time stripping off his tattered skirt and wading into the cold water. Cye averted his eyes until he was waist-deep, then risked a glance back at the creature. Loth made a distressed keening noise as he reached the middle of the stream and crouched down so that the water came up to his neck. He groaned and then let the water close briefly over his head, metal headband and all.

 

Loth broke the surface a second later, spluttering and mumbling in a language Cye couldn’t understand. “D-do you h-have s-s-soap?” he asked in Shared Speech, his teeth chattering so badly that Cye could barely make out the words.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Cye replied, pulling off his leather boots and leaving them in a spot further up the bank so they wouldn’t get accidentally splashed. He rinsed out his spare shirt again, the one that he had used to clean Loth’s face, and then looped the garment over some tree branches to dry out as much as possible before they hiked back to town. Though he would have liked to wash all of his clothes, he simply had nothing else to put on. It would have to wait until he could either afford new garments, or until he stayed in one place long enough to let his only set dry. Not to mention the fact that he had no soap, not for his body and not for his clothes.

 

He finished undressing and joined Loth in the deepest part of the stream. The water was cold, but not freezing. It made gooseflesh spring to life on his arms, but he wasn’t a shivering wreck like Loth.

 

The creature had gotten around the problem of no soap, at least for his skin, by using handfuls of sand from the stream bed and rubbing it all over himself, scrubbing the stench of troll away. Cye followed suit, collecting wet sand and getting himself as clean as possible.

 

After each of them had scraped through their hair and over their scalps with their fingers and nails - Cye with his shoulder-length, brown hair, and Loth with his waist-length, silvery hair - they both clambered out, trying to push the water off their bodies. Both avoided looking at the other, backs slightly turned as they re-dressed in their filthy clothes.

 

Cye faced Loth when he was certain the other was covered again, intending to ask if he was ready to attempt the hike back to town. Instead, he was met with a sight that had his brow furrowing. Loth was shivering so violently, he could barely stand. His eyes were shut tight and his arms were wrapped around his slender frame, teeth knocking together so hard, Cye thought they might break. Cye walked over to him, reaching out a hand and tentatively placing it on Loth’s arm.

 

“You’re freezing!” he gasped, snatching his hand away from the icy skin in shock. “The water wasn’t _that_ cold.”

 

Loth just looked at him with miserable eyes, unable to form words with how badly the tremors were wracking his body. Sighing inwardly at the delay, Cye set about making a fire as quickly as possible. It was several minutes before he was able to raise even a small lick of flame from the bracken and twigs he’d hastily scraped into a pile, and another several minutes before it emitted any real heat. Still, he had to physically restrain Loth from climbing on top of it. He stretched out an arm in front of the creature's chest, holding him back from trampling the growing flames.

 

That plan backfired, however, as Loth quickly discovered that Cye was producing a decent amount of body heat. Cye ended up with a cold nose pressed into his neck and freezing hands splayed on his back under his shirt. He did his best to work around Loth and get bigger branches on the fire.

 

When the blaze was finally roaring hot, Loth released his death grip and turned to face it, keeping Cye to his back. They sat down on the ground, Loth - wet hair and all - pressed against Cye’s front, holding his hands so close to the flames, Cye was amazed he didn’t scorch himself. Finally, Loth’s body stopped spasming and his shaking turned into mild shivering, and then into restful stillness. He slumped back against Cye at last and heaved a deep breath.

 

“My people have very poor temperature regulation,” Loth said, sitting up and turning so he could just see Cye out of the corner of his eye. “I should have waited for heated water, but I just couldn’t stand that wretched stench any longer.”

 

“How long were you in the cave?” Cye asked. Trolls rarely kept live food for long. They prefered putrefying meat, so keeping it alive and fresh didn’t make much sense.

 

Loth scowled and turned back to the fire. “Far too long,” he muttered, tossing a twig into the blaze.

 

“Where do you need to get to?” he asked, changing the subject. “I can get you pointed in the right direction.”

 

Loth curled in on himself, not answering. Cye wondered if he had been the only survivor out of a group of his fellows.

 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Cye said, reaching a hand out to the slim back in front of him. He could feel the shuddering breath that Loth pulled into his lungs. “But there has to be somewhere you were living before the troll’s cave. Somewhere you where going?”

 

Loth let his head drop into his hands, and Cye gave him some space to compose himself. “Did the troll have a pouch? Around his neck?” Loth asked from between his long fingers.

 

Cye fumbled through his bag as Loth turned around so that they were sitting facing one another. The creature watched with interest as Cye took out several items before finally locating the oddly aromatic leather pouch full of scraps. Loth cried out in joy and held up his hands for the object, which Cye quickly handed over. The last bit of the creature’s trembling subsided as he brought the leather to his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes shutting and his face relaxing.

 

He sat still for several minutes, while Cye cast nervous glances up at the position of the sun. They would never make it back to the village before nightfall now. Cye huffed out a breath, turning back to Loth, who looked much better than before. Though his skin was still translucent and pale, the gray dapples at his temples had blushed a warmer color, giving him a healthier appearance. His eyes, too, looked brighter and even his movements seemed more coordinated.

 

“Thank you,” Loth said. “I don’t know what I would have done without this.” His lips had warmed to a soft pink, as had his cheeks, and Loth was looking much more human (or elvish) than he had a moment before.

 

“Is it medicine?” Cye asked, inclining his head toward the pouch.

 

“No,” Loth replied, inhaling the fragrance once again, his nostrils practically jammed inside the opening of the pouch. “It’s my Clan Bag.”

 

“Clan Bag?”

 

Loth’s eyes crept warily up to Cye’s. Again he seemed to be waiting for some indication that Cye knew more than he was letting on. When the hunter just continued to stare at him blankly, the creature relaxed and nodded.

 

“All of my people take one when they travel,” Loth explained. “We are, how should I put it? We are close. We are like a pack in many ways. Being without one’s clan is… difficult. This,” he said, holding aloft the small pouch, “helps keep the ill effects at bay.”

 

“Oh,” Cye answered. He didn’t really understand, but he did know that there were races who had stronger social connections than those of humans.

 

Loth leaned forward and tried to put the long loop of leather holding the pouch together around Cye’s neck. “Whoa, wait a moment,” he said, catching Loth’s hands. “What are you doing?”

 

“I need a pack member,” Loth said slowly, as though to a child.

 

“But I’m a human,” Cye said. Loth rolled his eyes in a very elf-like manner. Cye tried not to feel judged.

 

“You _are_ a human, but you will do for a pack member,” Loth said, obviously taking pains to stay patient as he once again tried to slip the leather strap over the hunter's head. Cye relented, letting him place the pouch around his neck. Loth adjusted it several times, tying the leather string in a new position so that the pouch rested right in the center of the human’s chest. Loth looked so content, petting Cye’s shoulders and staring at the leather bag with relief, he couldn’t bring himself to push him away.

 

As Cye had feared, they didn’t make it back to the town before nightfall. In the dark, Cye wasn’t able to say with any certainty where the blacksmith’s home might be located, and they ended up sneaking into the hayloft of a barn. They were both hungry, but Cye wasn’t able to find anything in the barn that was edible besides some old chicken feed, and neither of them were _that_ hungry.

 

Cye hung up the damp shirt he’d been carrying draped over his satchel, and pulled a thick piece of canvas from a pile by the wall over to the center of the loft. After heaping together a soft mound of hay, he spread the tarp over the prickly straw, and they had themselves a makeshift mattress.

 

Exhausted, he climbed onto one side of the crunchy bed, fell on his back, and started to drift to sleep. There was some shifting next to him, then a gentle tug on his neck as Loth scented the Clan Bag, calming his breathing. Cye squawked when cold feet weaseled their way under his calves, followed by freezing cold hands, one on his stomach and the other wedged under his back. When an ice-cold nose found his armpit, and he felt Loth shivering next to him in the open air, Cye relented and pulled him in close, throwing his cloak over both of them. Cye had always run warm. It would be stingy not to share his body heat with a creature that could not produce enough of their own.

 

Sighing in comfort, Loth wiggled in even tighter and then slumped into sleep, his weight a solid constant along Cye’s flank. He could feel Loth’s breath heating the longer they lay there, marveling that the creature warmed so quickly when held. Lulled by Loth’s rhythmic breathing, Cye fell asleep with the smell of hay in his nostrils, and the distant cluck and murmur of chickens in their roosts.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few questions answered... a few questions raised. And fluff. I don't know how so much got in here, tbh.

Something smelled good. Amazingly good. It was like… like something Cye had smelled once, maybe, a long time ago. It reminded him of home. It reminded him of the forest and the sea and the howling wind. It was deep, like the scent of sap at the heart of a tree. It was… he had no idea what it was.

 

He wasn’t really awake. He was warm and comfortable and he didn’t want to move. There were chickens clucking nearby, and that was a little irritating, honestly. But it smelled so good here… Where was he again?

 

Cye opened his eyes, years of sleeping rough and on the run from things bigger and more deadly than himself forced him to take stock of his surroundings immediately. Loth was tucked up at his side, in the same position he’d fallen asleep, his forehead pressed tightly under Cye’s jaw. The hunter could feel the ridges along Loth’s brow and wondered if he’d end up with a reverse-print of tiny spikes marking his face.

 

They were in a hayloft and the sun was up. Cye listened closely, but other than the chickens, there didn’t seem to be anything else around. They were safe for the moment.

 

The scent was coming from Loth, it had to be. It reminded Cye a bit of the Clan Bag that hung around his neck, but it was much fresher, sharper. Loth shifted slightly in his sleep, nuzzling in even tighter. He felt the headdress shift a little, Loth’s wiggling having dislodged it enough to leave a small gap behind one of his ears. A wave of scent washed over him. Cye jostled the sleeping creature in his haste to get his nose against the back of Loth’s pointed ear, huffing in the aroma that was making his brain fizz and his blood run hot and quick.

 

He scarcely noticed Loth wake up and squirm underneath him. He didn’t pay any attention to the approaching voices outside the barn. He just needed to get closer, to breathe in and to taste. He opened his mouth, intending to sickle at Loth’s skin. Instead, he found himself flipped onto his back and a long hand pressed tightly to his lips, cutting off the moans he’d had no idea he was making until they stopped.

 

Loth glared at him, awkwardly fumbling the headdress back into place, covering his scent glands. Only then did Cye manage to get a grip on himself, hearing the voices just outside the barn door below the loft. They both froze in place as it opened and two farmhands walked in, chatting.

 

The two boys - they didn’t sound much older than twelve or thirteen - collected some equipment and headed back outside after a few minutes, still talking to each other, obviously unaware of the two trespassers in the loft. Their voices faded into the distance, silence returning.

 

They both sat up, still balanced on top of the canvas they’d used as a bed. Loth was looking down at his hands, jerkily peeling pieces of straw apart, refusing to meet Cye’s eyes.

 

“Loth,” Cye started, and at the sound of his voice, the silver eyes flashed up to his and then dropped away just as quickly. “I’m sorry. I… I’m really sorry.”

 

Loth shrugged, his shoulders lifting and dropping dejectedly. He heaved a deep breath. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice quiet as he eyed the shredded straw in his fingers, his blunt claws making quick work of the stalks.

 

Cye stared at him, confused. _“Do_ with you?”

 

Loth’s movements became faster, jerkier. He dropped the ruined straw before making a vague gesture to the headdress. Gathering more hay to pull apart, he shifted, but kept his eyes lowered. “Yes. Now that you know that I-” He heaved a sigh but didn’t look up.

 

Cye could see that the markings around Loth’s face, the ones that had been bright after scenting the Clan Bag the night before, were now dark. So dark they looked almost black. His skin, too, looked less crystalline and more opaque. Cye waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, he attempted to guess what the creature was trying to tell him.

 

“That you have scent glands?” No response except for more shredded straw. “I am so sorry that I reacted like that, Loth. I… I have never experienced a… loss of control like that before. I promise, though, that now that I am aware of the, uh, affect your, um, the, uh… now that I’m _aware,_ I won’t lose control again.”

 

Loth finally raised his eyes, giving the human a very skeptical look. Again, he seemed to be waiting for Cye to make some sort of connection, and again, Cye had no idea what the creature thought he knew. There was a tense silence, before Cye thought to offer Loth the Clan Bag. It had soothed him before when he was upset. Perhaps it would calm him now.

 

When he went to slip it off over his head, Loth made a distressed noise and crouched down like he had done something wrong. Frustrated that he had caused the opposite reaction that he’d intended, Cye paused, leaving the leather around his neck and stretching it out to Loth instead. The creature instantly brightened, leaning in close and burying his nose in the bag opening. His dark freckles slowly lightened again, his skin looking brighter.

 

At last he placed the bag back against Cye’s chest, his breath even and his shoulders relaxed. “Better?” Cye asked, and Loth nodded. “Let’s see what we can do about food then.”

 

Loth, it turned out, was incredibly good at finding anything that was edible in the forest. The barn they had slept in was at the farthest edges of the village, and instead of taking the road, they trekked through the woods, scavenging for food as they went. Not only did Loth find them all sorts of herbs and leaves and berries to eat, he was also able to scent out roots and mushrooms. He even managed to locate a hive and extract some honeycomb without being stung.

 

They sat on a fallen log near a small stream, feasting on their plunder, mouths and fingers sticky with honey. “Do you eat meat?” Cye asked, coming back from the stream with freshly rinsed hands and a fresh canteen of water. He handed it to Loth, who drank gratefully before giving it back.

 

“I can,” he replied. “My people do not usually eat much meat, but it is something I’ve grown used to… recently,” he said, trailing off. He plucked a dandelion from the mound of greens on the log between them and popped it into his mouth. “I prefer to eat plants, but sometimes my biology requires that I eat meat.” Cye looked at him curiously, but Loth didn’t explain. Instead, he offered, “I can hunt smaller creatures with a slingshot, if I were able to make a new one. Mine was taken from me.”

 

“The troll?” Cye asked, taking a drink of water, before refilling the canteen and stretching in preparation for another walk.

 

“No, not the toll,” Loth answered, standing up also. He gathered up the remaining food and Cye held open a small bag for him to place it in. Loth insisted on carrying it, and Cye let him. Loth owned absolutely nothing but the rags tied around his waist. Carrying their food would at least give him some semblance of control over his situation.

 

When the trees began to thin out, Cye caught sight of the road and sighed in relief. Before he could step foot on the path, however, Loth shied back into the treeline, making a distressed sound. His eyes wandered up and down the narrow track, restless and obviously frightened.

 

Cye went back to where the creature was standing, hiding from the road. “It’s okay, Loth,” he said. “We are heading for the blacksmith’s. He might be willing to give me a few coins for the troll weapons. Then we can visit the tanners and barter for a slingshot.”

 

Loth stayed still, arms wrapped around his torso. “But if I’m seen, they will know I’m not one of you.”

 

“That shouldn’t be much of a problem. There are a variety of creatures that roam these parts. In fact, there are probably non-humans that live in this village.”

 

“But,” Loth protested, “they will see that I’m…” he gestured at the metal encircling his head like a cruel crown.

 

Cye didn’t understand the creature’s fear. Yes, he’d been captured by a troll, but trolls were not tolerated in these parts. No one in the village would harm him. Still, Cye could see that the thought of being noticed genuinely upset Loth. He pulled the extra shirt, now dry at last, out of satchel, along with his cloak. He handed them to Loth, who took them with a sort of awed reverence.

 

“You are sharing these with me?” he asked, his silver eyes lighting up with wonder.

 

“Of course,” Cye answered. “With the hood pulled down, no one should realize that you aren’t an elf or a wood nymph. Just don’t show your eyes and try and hide your claws.” Loth tucked his hands instantly away under the cloak. Cye smiled at him. “See? Practically human.”

 

Loth flashed a brilliant smile in return. Cye was more than a little dazzled by the way it lit up his face. However, the smile revealed another problem.

 

“Oh… and you should probably make sure not to show your, uh, fangs,” he said, wincing at the word. They were short fangs, more of exaggerated canines, really, but they didn’t look even remotely human. Loth’s closed his mouth with a snap, but continued to grin faintly.

 

They walked along the road, moving faster now that they weren’t avoiding branches and streams. Cye watched out of the corner of his eye as Loth occasionally held the neck of Cye’s cloak up to his nose and inhaled. He felt embarrassed: the cloak rarely got washed and likely reeked.

 

Only a few other travelers passed by on the road, mostly workers heading between town and the outlying farms. They barely spared a glance for Cye and Loth, and eventually Loth seemed to relax, realizing that no one was going to attack him just because he was… whatever he was.

 

The blacksmith welcomed Cye with a booming hello, beckoning them both into his blazing shop. He left off shaping the set of horseshoes he was working on and made his way over to see what Cye had brought him. He looked as disappointed as Cye had been when he laid eyes on the pitiful weapons.

 

“Already sell the good stuff?” the blacksmith questioned, his bushy eyebrows raised at the hunter.

 

Cye made a frustrated noise, gesturing with weary acceptance at the pitiful display. “Unfortunately, no. This was all the damned troll had in his cave.” He noticed Loth shifting next to him uncomfortably.

 

“Strange,” the blacksmith, said, tugging at his beard with one hand as he flipped over the rusted remains of one of the knives with the other. “That troll’s hoard was legendary around these parts. He’d been plundering for decades.” The blacksmith dropped the knife back on the pile and his eyes trailed over to Loth, who stood to the side and slightly behind Cye, using him as a shield from the large man.

 

Cye stepped in front of Loth instinctively, getting the blacksmith’s attention again. “I know this is a pitiful haul, but can you give me anything for it? Some of the pieces are still usable.”

 

The blacksmith heaved a sigh and they began to barter for a price. In the end, Cye recieved a little more than he thought he would. He noticed the new rabbit pelts on a workbench in a corner and realized that the blacksmith was probably just grateful for the information about the warren, rather than actually interested in the weapons.

 

Still, Cye wasn’t complaining. They left the blacksmith with enough money for some supplies and a few night’s stay at a proper inn. After that… well. Cye would come up with a plan. There were always more trolls lurking about. Plus, he had the reward money to collect, though that was a few days hike from the village, over to the proper town of Grey River.

 

They stopped at the tanner’s next, Loth keeping close to Cye. So close that he had stepped on the hunter’s heels more than once and ran into him when Cye had stopped to read a road sign. The pair stumbled into the tanner's workshop, and after a few minutes of banter, got down to discussing the price of slingshots. The tanner produced a box for Cye, who made way for Loth to step forward and choose the one he wanted. The creature hesitated, but eventually stepped forward and began picking through the selection.

 

He ended up choosing a simple leather sling, one that was used by swinging it in a circle to build momentum and then released at one end to send a projectile hurtling at a target. It was one of the cheaper ones, for which Cye was silently grateful. They had enough left over after paying for the slingshot for some basic soap, a pair of cheap boots for Loth, a shirt and breeches, also for Loth, a pair of breeches for Cye, and a small packet of tea leaves.

 

It was early evening by the time they arrived at the inn. Cye was sore, hungry, and tired. Loth must have been even worse off, as he still hadn’t put on any of the things Cye had bought for him, and he’d noticed that the tall creature had begun to limp and wince as he set his feet down on the road. They needed supper, a bath, and a good night’s sleep.

 

Loth hung back when Cye stepped inside the rowdy inn, the farm workers already gathered for their nightly pint of ale. He spoke to the innkeeper and was given a room and the promise of dinner for two and a tub of hot water.

 

He found Loth hiding in the shadows outside, and beckoned him to follow him upstairs to their room. Loth sat in a wooden chair in the corner of the room as a young man brought in a sturdy wooden tub and then followed with bucket after bucket of warm water. Once the tub was full, the lad returned one more time with a full kettle that he set on the hob. Cye thanked him and handed him a copper, feeling generous at the sight of all that steaming water.

 

He closed and locked the door after seeing the young man out, then rummaged through his satchel for the cake of white soap they’d just purchased that afternoon. “You first,” he said to Loth, as he picked up his knife and began to whittle flakes off the bar of soap, making a small pile in a wooden dish on the table. “The lad will bring up our dinner once we’re done bathing and washing our clothes.”

 

Loth looked between Cye and the steaming tub, his pale eyes wide. “For.. bathing?” he asked, pointing at the tub.

 

Cye huffed a small laugh at the creature’s expression. “Yes Loth. For bathing.”

 

Loth’s face split into that radiant smile again and he immediately started stripping out of his clothes. Then he paused and looked back at Cye. “Are you sure you don’t want to go first?”

 

“No, go ahead. I’ll make some tea while you soak.”

 

Loth didn’t need any more convincing. Cye made himself look away before Loth’s tattered skirt slipped to the floor, but he couldn’t help his eyes trailing down for a brief moment. He expected to feel shame for catching sight of Loth’s naked body, but he was surprised into staring blatantly as the creature stepped into the tub. Cye was certain that Loth was male, but instead of a cock between his legs, Loth was smooth. There wasn’t even an opening. Just a faint, vertical line where a human cock and testicals would have been.

 

Cye wondered for a terrible moment if Loth had been castrated. But no. There was no sign of trauma or physical injury. The line marking him looked natural. He knew that dragons and similar creatures had concealed genitalia. Maybe Loth’s species was similar.

 

He was snapped out of his musings by Loth’s blissful sigh of contentment. The tub wasn’t large, but it was deep, and Loth situated himself into as much of a lounging position as he could manage, soaking in the steaming water. His back was slightly turned toward Cye, his long hair streaming over the edge of the tub and brushing the wood floor.

 

He wanted to offer to help Loth wash his mass of hair, to help him pick out bits of hay and pull apart the tangles, but after his behavior towards the creature earlier, he didn’t want to seem as though he were trying to take liberties. Instead, he brought over the bowl of soap flakes, careful to avert his eyes from the water and keep his gaze on Loth’s face.

 

The creature’s eyes were barely open, his head lolling against the rim of the wood tub. His face was flushed and his markings were nearly coral in color. Cye didn’t think he’d ever seen any creature, save maybe a cat in a sunbeam, look that relaxed and content.

 

“Here’s some soap and a cloth,” Cye said, setting them on a stool next to the tub. Loth blinked at him, but he didn’t get any other response. He left him to soak and went to make tea.

 

Tea, god, he’d missed tea. Sometimes the wealthy men and women that paid him to take care of their irksome troll problems gave him presents of food or small luxuries, like the resin chewing drops. He was always the most happy to receive packets of fine teas or coffee. Of course, the tea he’d bought in the market earlier was nowhere near the quality he’d get from a client, but it smelled wonderful all the same.

 

He poured a cup for Loth, sending up a silent thank you to the innkeeper for keeping her rooms so well stocked. Turning back to the tub, he saw that Loth had finally emerged from his stupor and was slowly massaging the soap flakes into his hair, raising a mass of suds. Cye tried not to think of what the water was going to be like when he finally got to it, reminding himself that it would still get him cleaner than a muddy stream.

 

“Tea,” he said, setting the cup down for Loth where he could reach it. Loth smiled sleepily up at him, his head full of suds. His arms flopped back into the water and he sighed, reaching for the tea and sipping it carefully. A funny rumbling came from his throat as he drank, and Cye was reminded, once again, of a cat.

 

He turned back to the other side of the room to finish his own cup when Loth made a sound of distress. Whirling around to check on him, Cye found him staring up at him with big eyes.

 

“Yes?” he asked the creature. Loth suddenly looked shy.

 

“Do you mind, uh… helping me?” He made a vague motion with his hands, indicating his soapy hair. “Sorry, I don’t know if that is a human practice or not.” He glanced at Cye’s surprised face and then grimaced, embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

 

“No, no,” Cye said quickly, pulling up one of the wooden chairs. “I’d be happy to help.” He sat behind Loth and hesitated, not sure where to start. He decided to just dive in and do the same things he would if he was washing his own hair. He raised his hands to Loth’s head, pushing his fingers through the tangles, trying his best not to pull, and began rubbing the creature’s scalp.

 

Loth melted, his whole body somehow relaxing even further, until his chin was touching the surface of the water. He hummed and moaned as Cye massaged him, making the hunter swallow hard. He was extra careful not to touch the iron band around Loth’s ears, and he pretended not to notice the red, pinched skin where the ill-fitting metal dug into his scalp and neck.

 

After lathering his hair all the way to the tips, Cye helped rinse the soap away. The tangles were impossible. They would need oils and treatments to get them out, but at least Loth’s hair was clean. Cye worked around the ornaments - small ivory beads and what looked to be silver baubles carved with swirling patterns - as he tried tugging Loth’s hair into a manageable shape.

 

“These are nice,” Cye said, giving a small tug on one of the trinkets.

 

“Thank you,” Loth replied, lazily swishing his hands through the water. “Most of them were my father’s, though I have three from my mother, and the black one is from my grandmother.”

 

Cye found the jet black bead and peered at it curiously. “Is it a… a bird?”

 

“Yes, it is a raven with a rose in its beak.”

 

“A rose?”

 

“A type of flower. My grandmother used to have them outside her home, gowning over the bank and onto the roof. They grew in all sorts of colors,” Loth continued, his voice slow, lost in a hazy memory. “Not black. There are no real black roses. Though there are roses so deep red, they appear black.”

 

“Sounds beautiful,” Cye said, letting the bead drop back into Loth’s mane of hair.

 

“Yes,” he agreed, voice even farther away.

 

“How about we get you out of the tub, I’ll take my turn, then wash the clothes, and then we’ll eat? Sound like a plan?”

 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Loth said shooting out of the water and grabbing a towel. “I forgot you haven’t bathed yet. Next time you need to go first because I simply forget myself when I’m in warm water.”

 

Cye ignored the way his heart gave a little start at Loth declaring there would be a next time, as though he planned to stay with Cye a while. It was admittedly nice having a companion.

 

Loth wrapped himself in the towel and knelt by the fire, trying to pry his fingers through the tangle of hair, before grunting and giving up. “We’ll need to get you some oils,” Cye said, speaking his earlier thought aloud as he stripped out of his shirt. “Who knows, maybe my patrons for this mission will gift us some.”

 

Loth looked up to reply just as Cye slipped his breeches off. He stared blatantly between Cye’s legs, his mouth falling open in disbelief. His eyes went up to Cye’s, who was trying to turn away and get in the tub, his skin flushing.

 

Cye settled into the tub, the water not as hot as it once was, but not quite lukewarm yet. He noticed Loth by the hearth, standing up and shifting awkwardly in place. He turned to look at him, grabbing a handful of soap flakes and trying to pretend that he wasn’t mortified by Loth’s horrified reaction to his body.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Loth asked, his eyes skipping everywhere around the room, not landing on Cye at all.

 

“I mean, no? You don’t have to?” Cye said, confused. Nakedness hadn’t seemed to bother Loth before. Was his naked body that offensive to the creature?

 

“But,” Loth made a helpless gesture at the tub, “you’re… _out,”_ he whispered, as though someone could overhear them. “I assume you need some privacy to, to…”

 

“I’m out? What do you- oh.” Cye was definitely blushing now. “Loth, human men are always… out. It doesn’t retract into our bodies.”

 

“What, _always?”_ Loth asked, caught somewhere between fascinated and horrified. “It does not mean that you wish to copulate?”

 

Cye nearly choked. “No! No, it is just always outside of my body. There’s nothing wrong. It’s normal for me- for humans.”

 

“Oh,” Loth said, his head tilting to the side and giving him a contemplating look. He shuffled a few feet closer, curious now. “Males from my people only emerge for sexual encounters,” he said. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Cye said, nerves making his voice raspy. “I’m sorry if I shocked you.”

 

Loth laughed and covered his mouth with one hand. He motioned to the tub again. “No, no, I just thought that maybe you wanted to…” He made a vague flapping gesture with his hand and laughed again. Cye shook his head and started wetting soap flakes to add to his hair.

 

“Let me help,” Loth said, tying the towel tighter around his waist and walking over to the chair. “It floats!” he squealed, standing over the tub. Cye jumped and scrambled to cover himself.

 

“Loth!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Loth laughed, falling into the chair behind him, still giggling. “It just must be so strange, is all. Having it on the outside all the time. Aren’t you afraid it will get injured?” Loth took over working up a lather in Cye’s hair, his blunt talons scratching pleasantly along his scalp.

 

“I guess sometimes it can be a problem,” Cye answered, trying to think of it from Loth’s point of view. “Especially if something you’re fighting tries to kick you in the balls.”

 

Loth laughed again, his hands shaking in Cye’s hair. “That sounds terrible,” Loth agreed. After that, Loth let the subject drop, pulling out the tangles in Cye’s hair as best he could. “You need oils too,” he decided, giving up.

 

“Yeah, this soap doesn’t help.”

 

“It makes it worse,” Loth decided, helping Cye to rinse it out. Once he was finished, Cye was about to stand up from the tub, when he was met with a very curious Loth waiting for him with his eyes on his torso.

 

“I need the towel, Loth,” Cye informed him.

 

“Oh, right,” Loth said, pulling the towel off and handing it to him. Cye averted his eyes from the creature’s nudity, though Loth didn’t offer the same courtesy. Instead, he had a very fixated creature following every one of his movements as he dried off.

 

“It’s really just… out all the time?” Loth asked again, clearly fascinated. Cye heaved a long suffering breath.

 

“Yes, Loth.”

 

“It’s so stretchy.”

 

“Well-”

 

“And you have body hair,” Loth said, nodding in contemplation. “I myself do not,” he said, indicating his smooth lower half.

 

“Um-”

 

“Is it warm like the rest of you?” Loth asked, moving in entirely too close, his hand reaching out. Cye quickly bundled his midsection in the towel.

 

“Loth!” he said, his voice unnaturally high-pitched. “You must be getting cold. Why don’t you put your new clothes on?”

 

“Oh, sure,” Loth said, successfully distracted and looking around for the new garments. He brought them over to Cye and held them out.

 

“Those are for you,” Cye said, not sure if Loth had understood that he was to wear them. Loth shuffled.

 

“Yes, but,” he danced in place, still holding them out to Cye.

 

“Do you need help getting them on?”

 

“No, I know how,” Loth said, looking at him with an offended expression.

 

“Then why-”

 

“They need to smell like pack.”

 

“Do you need the Clan Bag? It’s over there on the shelf.”

 

Loth looked over at the bag, then looked back at Cye. “Yes, but, you first,” Loth insisted, handing him the garments. Cye took them, baffled.

 

“How do I…?”

 

“Like this.” Loth mimicked nuzzling his face in the fabric. Cye sighed, but did as he was asked, rubbing his face against the new shirt. Loth took it when he was done, giving it a sniff. “More,” he said handing it back. “You’re not as easy to smell after a bath.”

 

“That’s a good thing, right?”

 

Loth rolled his eyes, but smiled when Cye complied, rubbing the shirt thoroughly all over his face. Loth nodded and took the shirt back, slipping it over his head. “Pants too.”

 

“Loth-”

 

“Pants too!”

 

Cye felt ridiculous nuzzling into the breeches, his nose and lips trailing over the places that would be cradling Loth very intimately, carrying his smell. Loth grinned as he pulled on the pants.

 

Everything fit rather well, though the sleeves and legs were a bit too short on him. Loth insisted on scenting Cye’s new breeches before he put them on, and finally Cye was able to get into his new trousers, which were a bit too long in the leg.

 

He used the bathwater to wash their clothes, all except for Loth’s makeshift skirt, which the creature insisted on throwing out. “It’s not from my pack,” he explained, and Cye nodded as though he understood.

 

Once he had the clothes drip-drying in front of the hearth, and everything smelled and felt a whole lot better, he went down to find the innkeeper and ask her to send up some dinner. Two lads showed up this time to empty the bath and haul it away, and then one of them was back with a tray draped with a clean dishcloth. Cye thanked him and saw him out before pulling back the cloth to see what their supper consisted of.

 

There was meat stew, cheese, bread and ale. Cye’s mouth watered. He took his half and tucked in, his appetite making everything taste that much better. He glanced up at Loth, who was eating bread and cheese, but leaving the rest untouched.

 

"Is this stew not to your liking?” he asked. “We can have them bring you something else.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Loth answered. “It’s just that this isn’t the best time for me to eat meat. I am fine with bread and cheese.”

 

“How about the ale?”

 

Loth wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure it’s fine for humans, but I am used to a different sort of alcohol.”

 

“What kind?”

 

Loth’s eyes lit up. “My favorite is made from apples and honey. It is clear and sweet and very powerful.”

 

“That sounds quite delicious.”

 

“It is,” Loth agreed. “You will have to try it one day.”

 

“I would like that.”

 

Cye ended up finishing both bowls of stew, on Loth’s insistence. Finally feeling full, he pushed away from the table. Loth’s eyes were barely staying open. He’d been nodding asleep for the past several minutes, obviously fighting to stay awake.

 

“Bed,” Cye said. “Tomorrow we'll make plans. But we are both too tired for that tonight.” Loth agreed and stumbled toward the bed, shucking off his clothes as he went and hanging them on the bedpost. Then he burrowed, nude, under the sheets and blankets. He looked back for Cye.

 

“Come on, Cye,” he said, blinking heavily. Cye dithered at the side of the mattress for a moment, concerned about sleeping with a nude bed partner. But Loth was treating their sleeping arrangements - and his nudity - as something completely normal.

 

Leaving his breeches on, Cye crawled in after him, and settled into the soft pillow. It was heaven. Pure heaven. His entire body relaxed for the first time in ages. He was almost asleep when a warm weight settled at his side and a pointy brow was pushed against his jaw. Knowing there was no use in pushing Loth away, he curled an arm around him before falling asleep.

 


End file.
